‘Help you?’
She’s studying me, turning me over in her mind.
She hands me a handkerchief.
‘Wipe your chin, you look atrocious,’ she says. ‘I’m afraid sorrow doesn’t suit that arrogant face at all well.’
‘How—’
‘It’s a very long story,’ she says. ‘And I’m afraid we’re somewhat pressed for time.’
I sit dumbly, struggling to take everything in, wishing for the clarity of Ravencourt’s mind. So much has happened, so much I can’t quite piece together. I already felt as if I was staring at the clues through a foggy magnifying glass, and now Evelyn’s here, tugging a bedsheet over Millicent’s face, calm as a summer day. Try as I might, I can’t keep up.
Quite clearly, that little tantrum at dinner regarding her engagement was an act, because there’s no trace of that crippling sadness about her now. Her eyes are clear, her tone contemplative.
‘So I’m not the only one dying tonight,’ she says, stroking the old lady’s hair. ‘What a miserable thing.’
The glass falls from my hand in shock.
‘You know about—’
‘The reflecting pool, yes. Curious affair, isn’t it?’
She has a dreamy tone, as though describing something she once heard and now only half remembers. I’d suspect her mind of having buckled in some way, if it weren’t for the hard edge to her words.
‘You seem to be taking the news rather well,’ I say cautiously.
‘You should have seen me this morning, I was so angry I was kicking holes in the walls.’
Evelyn’s running her hand along the edge of the dressing table, opening Millicent’s jewellery box, touching the pearl-handled brush. I’d describe her actions as covetous, if there didn’t appear to be an equal amount of reverence.
‘Who wants you dead, Evelyn?’ I ask, unnerved by this curious display.
‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘There was a letter pushed under my door when I woke up. The instructions were quite specific.’
‘But you don’t know who sent it?’
‘Constable Rashton has a theory, but he’s kept it rather close to his chest.’
‘Rashton?’
‘Your friend? He told me you were helping him investigate.’ Doubt and distaste seep out of every word, but I’m too intrigued to take it personally. Could this Rashton be another host? Maybe even the same man who asked Cunningham to deliver that ‘all of them’ message, and gather some people together. Either way, he seems to have swept me up into his plan. Whether I can trust it is another matter.
‘Where did Rashton approach you?’ I ask.
‘Mr Derby,’ she says firmly. ‘I’d love nothing more than to sit down and answer all your questions, but we don’t really have time. I’m expected at the reflecting pool in ten minutes and I can’t be late. In fact, that’s why I’m here, I need the silver pistol you took from the doctor.’
‘You can’t mean to go through with this,’ I say, jumping up from my seat in alarm.
‘As I understand it, your friends are close to unmasking my would-be killer. They simply need a little more time. If I don’t go, the killer will know something is wrong, and I can’t risk that.’
I’m beside her in two steps, my pulse racing.
‘Are you saying they know who’s behind all of this?’ I say excitedly. ‘Did they give you any indication who it might be?’
Evelyn’s holding one of Millicent Derby’s cameos up to the light, an ivory face on blue lace. Her hand is shaking. It’s the first sign of fear I’ve seen from her.
‘They didn’t, but I hope they find out soon. I’m trusting your friends to save me before I’m forced to do something... final.’
‘Final?’ I say.
‘The note was specific, either I take my life out by the reflecting pool at 11 p.m. or somebody I care about very deeply dies in my stead.’
‘Felicity?’ I ask. ‘I know you collected a note from her at the well, and that you asked her for her assistance with your mother. Michael said she was an old friend. Is she in danger? Is somebody holding her against her will?’
That would explain why I haven’t been able to find her.
The jewellery box clatters shut. Evelyn turns to face me, hands now pressed flat against the dressing table.
‘I don’t mean to sound impatient, but don’t you have somewhere to be?’ she says. ‘I was asked to remind you about a rock that needs watching. Does that make any sense to you?’
I nod, remembering the favour Anna asked of me earlier this afternoon. I’m to be standing by it when Evelyn kills herself. I wasn’t to move. Not an inch, she’d said.
‘In that case my work here is done and I should go,’ says Evelyn. ‘Where’s the silver pistol?’
Even in her small fingers, it seems an inconsequential thing, more decoration than weapon, an embarrassing way to end a life. I wonder if that’s the point, if there’s not some quiet rebuke in the instrument of death, as there is in the method. Evelyn isn’t merely being murdered, she’s being embarrassed, dominated.
Every choice has been taken from her.
‘What a pretty way to die,’ says Evelyn, staring at the pistol. ‘Please don’t be late, Mr Derby, I suspect my life depends upon it.’
After a final glance towards the jewellery box, she’s gone.
31
Hugging myself against the cold, I stand over Anna’s carefully placed rock, terrified of taking even a small step to my left, where at least I’d be warmed by one of the braziers. I don’t know why I’m here, but if it’s part of a plan to save Evelyn, I’ll stand in this spot until my blood turns to ice.
Glancing towards the trees I catch sight of the Plague Doctor in his usual location, half hidden by gloom. He’s not looking at the reflecting pool as I thought when I witnessed this moment through Ravencourt’s eyes, but away to his right. The angle of his head suggests he’s talking to somebody, though I’m too far away to see who. Either way, it’s an encouraging sign. Evelyn suggested she’d found allies among my hosts, and surely, in those bushes, somebody is waiting to come to her aid?
Evelyn arrives at eleven exactly, the silver pistol hanging limp in her hand. Drifting from shadow to flame, she follows the braziers, her blue ball gown trailing in the grass. I long to tear the pistol from her grasp, but somewhere beyond my sight an invisible hand is working, pulling levers I can’t possibly understand. Any minute now somebody will call out, I’m certain of it. One of my future hosts will come sprinting into the darkness, telling Evelyn it’s over and the murderer is captured. She’ll drop the gun and sob her thanks, while Daniel presents his plan for both Anna and me to escape.
For the first time since all this began, I feel myself part of something bigger.
Encouraged by this, I root my feet, hovering over my rock.
Evelyn’s come to a stop at the edge of the water, looking around at the trees. For a second, I think she’ll spot the Plague Doctor, but she pulls her gaze back before reaching him. She’s unsteady, swaying slightly as though moved by some music only she can hear. The flames from the brazier are reflected in the diamonds of her necklace, liquid fire pouring down her throat. She’s trembling, desperation mounting on her face.
Something’s wrong.
I glance back towards the ballroom to find Ravencourt at the window, looking longingly towards his friend. Words are forming on his lips, but they’re too late to do any good.
‘God help me,’ Evelyn whispers to the night.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she turns the gun towards her stomach and pulls the trigger.
The shot is so loud it cracks the world, drowning out my anguished scream.
In the ballroom, the party holds its breath.
Surprised faces turn towards the reflecting pool, their eyes seeking out Evelyn. She’s clutching her stomach, blood seeping out from between her fingers. She looks confused, as though she’s been handed something she shouldn’t have been, but before she can make sense of it, she buckles, falling forwards into the water.